


The Hallway

by blacktail_chorus



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Mary-neutral, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, post-S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktail_chorus/pseuds/blacktail_chorus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"He twitched when Sherlock appeared beside him, then turned to meet his friend's eyes, questioning. It seemed he was always asking Sherlock what to do next. Even now."</i>
</p>
<p>John's wife and his daughter are dead, and he stands in a hallway alone with his grief. Then Sherlock comes to his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hallway

John stood in the dim hallway without moving. He was at once tense and sagging, his body reflecting the confused cacophony of grief and anger echoing through his head. He realized he was holding his breath. He let it all out in a rush.

He twitched when Sherlock appeared beside him, then turned to meet his friend's eyes, questioning. It seemed he was always asking Sherlock what to do next. Even now.

John did not expect Sherlock to step closer, to extend his arms and to fold them around John's torso, to bring him close. It was, he decided, a bit like he imagined a hug from a bat might be: awkward and ungainly and urgent. John's own arms remained at his sides.

"Sherlock," he started. His voice was raspy and throat swollen.

"Hush." He cut him off. "You require comfort."

"Oh," John replied, and let out a dry laugh.

"You've just buried your wife and your daughter. You've endured an entire afternoon of condolences from a gaggle of people who haven't the slightest idea what actually happened. You generally avoid unnecessary touch, but under these circumstances you would... _appreciate_ physical contact from a friend."

Indeed, John had found himself relaxing in Sherlock's embrace as the seconds ticked by. He lacked the strength to resist and strangely found he didn't want to.

"You don't have to, you know," he mumbled in reply.

"John," Sherlock said, a touch sharply. "You may be spectacularly unobservant, but even you should realize by now that I will always do anything you truly need of me."

John snorted. "Then why are there still fingers next to the veg in your refrigerator?"

He could practically hear Sherlock's eyeroll. "'Want' is not equivalent to 'need.'"

A brittle laugh escaped John's lips. His face grew warm, and his cheek felt slick against his friend's shirt. He was crying.

Sherlock's arms redoubled their pressure and John's rose to grasp his friend in return. They held each other in the hallway, two men standing alone to face the dark.


End file.
